


Celebration

by whenyouheldtheknife



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caring, Crushes, Drabble, Drunk Enjolras, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Everyone Is Alive, Gen, M/M, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire, Secret Crush, Silly, because he's grantaire and he's a little bit drunk and enjolras is so wasted, enjolras snores and grantaire finds it charming, i'm probably forgetting things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenyouheldtheknife/pseuds/whenyouheldtheknife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All right. It’s not fair that the sun of Grantaire’s life becomes a cuddly, complimentary ray of starlight when he’s completely hammered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> 1) this is my first time writing anything les mis  
> 2) blame tumblr user twoatoneshot for this because she's my friend & roommate and it's entirely her fault that i love these total nerds  
> 3) also just fyi i am actually enjolras  
> 4) i hope i didn't write this too badly; please feel free to leave critique or suggestions for me!!

Grantaire supposes that it makes sense for someone with a soul burning with the desire for equality to be heavy. But to be fair, he wasn’t expecting Enjolras to be this goddamn heavy. “Can you pick up your feet a little?” the brunette asks, looking down at his blond-haired companion. 

Lolling his neck back, Enjolras looks up at Grantaire with blue eyes clouded over with alcohol and sleepiness. “If I could then they wouldn’t be dragging so much, you should slow down,” he slurs, attempting to pull himself upright by gripping more firmly onto Grantaire’s side and awkwardly moving his legs. It kind of makes Grantaire think about colts and how they can’t walk properly when they’re young and he has to repress a laugh at the thought of it, because it’s just so on point with Enjolras’s agility right now. 

“That’s good enough, we’re almost back to my place.” Grantaire pauses, then gets a better grip on his friend and hoists him up, making absolutely sure that the bottoms of Enjolras’s feet are more on the sidewalk than his toes. “That new job is going to suit you very well,” he adds, swallowing around a sudden dry lump in his throat. It’s just a compliment, Grantaire, friends compliment friends all the time. (Except Grantaire feels a little more than friendly and the way that Enjolras’s thumb is rubbing against his side is driving him absolutely crazy.) 

Enjolras makes a squeaking noise in his throat and Grantaire starts, looking down at him again. “Uh.” 

“‘Taire, it’s gonna be sooo great, they said they’re real - really - excited to have me on board, on the team an’ all, ‘cause I’m gonna learn things, which is, y’know, real good!” Enjolras exclaimed, pausing every few words to take an unnecessarily deep breath. His words were all slurring together now and a heavy French accent was coming out - he had spent his childhood in France before moving to America, after all - and Grantaire wasn’t sure he could be more in love than he was right now. 

Chuckling, Grantaire led the both of them to a stop outside of his apartment’s door, having already made it through the lobby of the building. He detaches Enjolras from his side (and misses the warmth already; he’s in deep, isn’t he?) and leans the drunk man against the wall by the door. “Stay upright for just a minute while I unlock the door,” Grantaire tries to admonish, and fails when he sees Enjolras try to form a smirk and instead just look super dorky and adorable. 

“I’ll just focus on you so I stay up!” is the quick response, and Grantaire rolls his eyes underneath his dark brown bangs, quickly unlocking the door and flicking on the light before offering Enjolras his hand. The blond takes it and grips it tight. “You’re such a gentleman,” he tells Grantaire, and leans his whole body up against his friend’s. 

All right. It’s not fair that the sun of Grantaire’s life becomes a cuddly, complimentary ray of starlight when he’s completely hammered. “For you, of course,” Grantaire replies softly, leading Enjolras in and closing the door behind them. 

Once inside Grantaire’s apartment, Enjolras lets go and wanders into the small sitting room as if he hasn’t seen it before. Grantaire isn’t as embarrassed of his messy, art supplies-covered living space as he usually would be - it’s probably the buzz from the few drinks he had at the bar. It was much more fun watching Enjolras drink and make faces after each shot than actually getting drunk himself. “Get comfy somewhere and I’ll get you some water. You’ll regret it otherwise,” he instructs Enjolras, walking forward and placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, trying to steer him towards the couch. 

To his complete and utter surprise, Enjolras turns around rapidly (and without falling over - drunk Grantaire is jealous and sober Grantaire is impressed) and exclaims with a sloping grin that lights up the entire room, “I am the law, and the law doesn’t sleep, or drink water, or - or take orders from anyone!” 

Grantaire is doubled over and laughing before he really gets a chance to try not to. He doesn’t want Enjolras to think he’s being laughed at, but Grantaire is definitely laughing at him. He’s going to have to enlist Coufreyac and get Enjolras drunk more often if this is what happens. “Just - okay, that was funny, just go lie down!” he retorts, pulling himself upright and grinning right back at this ridculous blond man still standing in the middle of his living room. With a nudge to Enjolras, Grantaire turns and walks the few steps into the kitchen area. He reaches into the cupboard above the minimal counter space (also completely cluttered, which isn’t a surprise to anyone at all) and pulls down a cup, then hits the tap and fills the cup with cold water. Enjolras will thank him when he doesn’t wake up with a headache in the morning. 

“Here,” he says, turning around and walking back to the room. To his surprise, Enjolras is lying down complacently on the couch, a blanket haphazardly thrown over his legs. “So you decided to lie down?” Grantaire teases, smiling as he walks over and sets the water down on a clear spot on the coffee table. 

Enjolras blinks a few times as if processing, then grins hugely and stands up, throwing the blanket off and whacking his calves on the coffee table, just to exclaim, “I was laying down THE LAW, ‘Taire, THE LAW! But justice doesn’t sleep and neither do I!” Then, to Grantaire’s further surprise, Enjolras lets out this huge guffawing laugh and it smacks Grantaire in the face with its honesty and volume and sheer happiness. 

“Oh, my God, Enj, lie down!” Grantaire encourages, laughing as well as he gently pushes Enjolras back down onto the couch so tbat the man lies down, still laughing at his own joke. 

“I don’t wanna sleep,” Enjolras whines, wiggling around on the couch and looking up at Grantaire with pouting eyes. He reaches out to the coffee table and takes the glass of water, tilting it back and spilling most of what he tries to drink on his shirt. 

Grantaire rolls his eyes openly and bends down to pick up the blanket that was thrown to the floor when Enjolras got up so that he can tuck the drunk man in. “Just try to sleep, Enjolras.” He smiles, still bent a little bit over the other man, and quickly (while trying not to think about it too much) presses a soft, chaste kiss to Enjolras’s forehead. 

Then there’s a sudden, startling sound like a chainsaw roaring to life and Grantaire almost falls backwards over his coffee table in shock. Is that - Grantaire looks closely at Enjolras, who had apparently fallen asleep before he had been tucked in. Just as he’s about to think he imagined the noise, Grantaire watches as Enjolras breathes in heavily in his sleep and then breathes out just as heavily, making that god-awful noise. 

Oh my God. He snores, Grantaire thinks to himself, grinning. Enjolras snores like a goddamn sailor and even though it’s one of the most awful noises he’s heard, it’s too precious for Grantaire to think about for much longer. 

...Oh, no. Grantaire sinks down into a nearby chair and the smiles fades from his face as he stares absentmindedly at Enjolras sleeping. If he thinks that the blond’s snoring is precious, he’s totally screwed. 

Getting up, Grantaire meanders into his bedroom, leaving the living room lamp on. He climbs into his bed fully-clothed and curls up under the covers, closing his eyes and going to sleep almost immediately. Maybe he’ll think differently about this in the morning. 

(Even as he drifts into sleep, Grantaire can hear Enjolras’s snores from the other room, and he knows that even in the damning light of day, he’s still head over heels for that passionate blond man.) 


End file.
